


His Mad Game

by Canadiantardis



Series: Most Dangerous Series [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Minecraft, But also, Character Death, Could-have-been relationships, Creeper Gavin, Gen, Heavy hints of Michael/Gavin, Hints of Jack/Geoff, I'm Sorry, Like blatantly obvious hints, Mad King Ryan, Minecraft, Not sure if graphic but might be, POV Multiple, PTSD, Past Character Death, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts (briefly implied), Tragedy, ghost!ray, the first few chapters arent exactly linear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadiantardis/pseuds/Canadiantardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How the decision was made that allowed Ryan to become King had been debated for months after the announcement, and soon after, the peace High King Geoff had been protecting broke like fine glass.<br/>For Ryan was ruthless, and to the people, he was Mad, bloodthirsty in all the wrong ways, and cruel.<br/>Then his games began."</p><p>A once High King, his advisor, two warriors and the old King's charge.<br/>Only two may survive this game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea when I was watching the Most Dangerous Game X from Minecraft and this story was born.

_How did it come to be like this?_ Michael thought desperately as he split from Gavin, the half-Creeper blending immediately with the surroundings, giving both men the chance that only one will die. Michael didn’t look back, only looking forward as his heart was lodged in his throat. He couldn’t look back, to see if he was the one being chased, or if Gavin was the one to die.

It turns out he did not need to turn around, as he heard the pounding steps of a horse, heading for him at full tilt.

Scrambling around some trees and up some smaller hills, Michael distantly thought how unlucky Gavin was. He had meant to split their food, had been dividing it between the two of them when Gavin had shrieked and high tailed it, only giving Michael a few precious seconds to return the food and leaving the hastily made camp the two and Jeremy made.

 _If I make it out of here, and I somehow to Christ find him again,_ Michael thought, dread filling his stomach as he heard a too-close for comfort laugh somewhere to his back left, _I’m giving most of this shit to him. He seriously needs to eat more, Jesus Christ._

Michael knew he couldn’t run anymore, searching for a place to hide from the horse and its rider, before finding a low hanging branch, sturdy enough for what he needed to do.

But as he swept up the first branch, something sharp and cold pressed to his back, freezing him in place.

“Come now, I thought I was hunting the most dangerous game.” Came the taunting laughter as Michael turned around, pale as the moon that was slowly rising, to face the owner of the horse and deadly, deadly sword, the one who had started all of this.

Ryan smiled crookedly, malice bright in his eyes as one hand held the sharp, powerful diamond sword, while the other held something made out of obsidian, something small and circular.

“You know the laws.” The Mad King reminded, hefting the black thing up pointedly. “Unless you would rather be reunited with the Lovely Rose.”

As much as Michael wanted to give up, to never betray their friends like Ryan clearly had, as much as he dearly wished to see Ray again, he couldn’t leave Gavin; he couldn’t leave his still living friends to their fate.

Slowly, Michael dropped his head in surrender, swinging off the branch to land back onto the hard dirt, hands up. Ryan gave an amused chuckle before sweeping gracefully off his massive beast of a horse, his armour gleaming brightly like a star in the moonlight, until he stood towering over the younger man, sheathing his sword in favour of grabbing Michael’s chin, lifting his head.

“One caught, four to go.” He said, snapping the circular piece of obsidian around Michael’s neck like a heavy collar. Michael stumbled under the weight that seemed to now threaten to crush him. “Now, where did that little Halfling _Creep_ off to?”

**Going back in time**

Peaceful years were hard to come by in Éacht, until the reign of High King Geoffrey and his Queen Griffon. The normally turbulent kingdom, surrounded by rough waters and two impressive kingdoms, the landlocked Fiacla, and the growing kingdom of Baile Spraoi, had until the rule of King Geoff been bitter enemies, all three kingdoms desperate to win more land over the others. But the High King had made the fighting not needed, settling the history of bad blood with a simple festival and discussion, leading to many treaties and signings with Fiacla’s ruler King Burnie, and Baile Spraoi’s King Adam.

Éacht soon spent many decades of peace and prosperity alongside its neighbours, all three rulers praised with being benevolent and peace seeking, allowing free travel between kingdoms for merchants.

As High King Geoff thought nothing could ever tear this peace away from him, disaster struck. His wife, Queen Griffon, a wonderfully strong woman in both mind and body to the point she rivaled her husband as the best ruler, died in childbirth. Although devastated, King Geoff continued, for their child, a beautiful girl he decreed would be named Millicent, Millie for short, had survived her birth that had killed her mother.

Another disaster struck when High King Geoff’s daughter, Millie, barely reaching her tenth birthday, was struck down with a powerful illness that would not let up, and would not slow down. As her life slipped, High King Geoff demanded and pleaded for his men to find someone who knew a way to save her, meeting a rather mysterious man by the name of Ryan, who had been rumoured to be a mage and a powerful one at that. He joined the castle during Princess Millie’s last day, unable to help her in any way besides lessen the pain the child would feel.

No one is certain how things proceeded from there, but the King, devastated by the death of his young daughter, withdrew to his castle for several weeks as his kingdom mourned the loss of their beloved princess. After several more weeks, though, news traveled that the High King was stepping down, giving the crown and title to one of the two men that had joined him and who he had begun to trust.

How the decision was made that allowed the newest man, Ryan, to become King had been debated for months after the announcement, and soon after, the peace High King Geoff had been protecting broke like fine glass.

For Ryan was ruthless, and to the people, he was Mad, bloodthirsty in all the wrong ways, and cruel.

Then his games began.

**still back in time but closer**

Michael, the kingdom’s bravest and strongest warrior this century, had been spared from the first game the new king had presented, an almost cannibalistic version of hunting, but his friends had not been. Ray, Gavin, a young maid named Lindsay, had all been taken away from the castle to some sort of area, possibly a small island far from the mainland, surrounded by forests and mountains, according to Gavin, the only one to survive the experience. Michael still remembered the horror filled shouts encompassed the room when Gavin returned, bloody and relaying the trauma. Out of the six innocents taken to play the game, only Gavin, whom all knew was the weakest, the clumsiest, the stupidest, and yet, he was the one to survive.

The Mad King would not let the families reclaim his ‘prizes’ and Michael flinched at the memory of Jeremy screaming for his ‘big brother’ to be returned to him and his family. He remembered Gavin scrambling whenever Ryan was walking, hands raising to his neck, his eyes wide, pupils small little dots as they watched every single movement made until the King would pass and Michael would spend hours calming him down, wishing for Ray who had always been there to help him calm the King’s charge.

Michael remembered both he and Jeremy spent weeks trying to get what exactly happened during the game from Gavin, to find out how Ray died, how their friend the maid Lindsay died, how those other three nameless victims were killed, but would always reach some sort of wall that would make Gavin freeze up and spiral into fits, as if unseeing to the world around him, locked in the past. The two warriors had finally stopped pestering the old King’s charge when it became apparent the other lad could not even dip his mind back into the memories without reliving every painful memory.

It soon became a tradition, a cruel, twisted game every year with only a small handful of poor souls practically kidnapped or coerced into joining the game under pain of decapitation public execution style. There were only ever a couple survivors at most each year, sometimes no one would survive the hunt, and again Michael would hear the mourning cries of his friend after one game, the eighth year, returned with news of the death of his closest childhood friend, Matt, who had been the last to die in the game, according to the Mad King.

Soon, it was rounding the tenth year of the annual Most Dangerous Game, and around the twelfth or so rule of the Mad King, when Ryan decided to up the danger, announcing some new laws to go with the game, before saying who were being hunted.

This is how Michael found himself surrounded by his closest friends and the Mad King, being told they would be participating in the game. By the way he was acting, Michael could tell under the hood Gavin was pale, hissing softly in fear, a coping mechanism he had learnt from his Creeper family, and shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Everyone was pale as they listened to the laws of the game. Jack gripped his arms in a fearful version of crossing his arms, the grip making his knuckles white. Jeremy looked ashen as he figured out how his brother, and his best friend, had been murdered during this game, and both young men understood how Gavin had survived. The Old King Geoff was more stony, unable to exert power to stop the madness as he willingly gave the crown and all the power that came with it to Ryan. Michael himself was unsure how he was feeling, but he had the most horrible feeling he would never see any of these friends alive ever again.

They were taken to one of the islands, connected by simple wooden or stone bridges, by boat, reminded of the rules. There was a magic barrier around the arena that would burn those foolish enough to try swimming away. Only at most two people were allowed the chance to serve the King when they are found. All the others must die, hunted like wild deer like it was all just some disgusting game. They were not allowed to dig and hide themselves under the earth.

They were given until sun up the next day to prepare, and when Jeremy had asked if they could work together, the Mad King just laughed crookedly. “Not like it’ll do you any good.” He had said, before releasing them onto their island.

Jack and Geoff fucked off first, crafting what they could quickly before they left the lads on the tallest hill on the island. Gavin seemed stricken and hadn’t spoken a single word, or at least human words, since getting on the boat. He would hiss and click, his hood pulled low over his face as if he were a child hiding from the world around him. Michael knew he couldn’t leave him.

Jeremy stayed with them as well, helping gathering materials with Michael as Gavin followed like a lost duckling. The two warriors discussed plans and possible strategies, but they had been flung into this situation with next to nothing. They had no weapons besides the ones they crafted themselves, had no idea where they were or what the terrain was like for the various islands that were connected by bridges, they were like infants on their own and it frustrated Michael to no end.

**Which leads back to**

The collar weighed heavily on Michael’s shoulders, the magic it contained sparking at his neck like mini lightning.

Ryan sat atop his steed as he scanned the area, but if he knew Gavin, the Creepling would be long gone, and wouldn’t look back. He wouldn’t be lucky surviving the games twice, Michael could tell by the twisted smile adorning the face of who had once been a good friend of his.

Michael still couldn’t understand what had happened to Ryan that changed him so drastically. A part of him even wondered if maybe he had always been this way and the self he had presented himself as was an act. Michael didn’t know which truth hurt more.

Ryan turned his gaze to the warrior, looking thoughtful. “You’re going to be my siren, dear Mogar.” Michael inwardly shuddered, his warrior name sounding dirty coming from the Mad King. “The collar will link us together telepathically and when you find one of the others, you _will_ tell me.” His face darkened for a brief moment and it took all of Michael’s training not to flinch.

“Yes, my Liege.” The words rolled off the tongue out of habit, with no real commitment to the man on his horse in front of him.

“And if you do not tell me if you found one of the others, especially that Creepling you are so fond of…” The Mad King’s eyes sparked dangerously, but didn’t continue and Michael wanted the earth to swallow him up.

He nodded and Ryan smiled again. “Go forth, dear siren. Let the real fun begin.”

Chapter done!

 _This life is filled with hurt_  
_When happiness doesn't work_  
_Trust me and take my hand_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLepJyvpFAtRtYCYy83kKzp2P8zZweIJUK  
> Don't like Nightcore? Here's an alternate:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLepJyvpFAtRtj4K1O64n4jYV9tT0YZXz3


	2. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t want to die.  
> “I don’t want to die!” He heard the shrieks of Lindsay in the distance and he flinched, a muffled whining hiss escaping him. “Please have mercy!”

Gavin felt like crying, his mind splitting down the middle as it struggled to remember what was present, what was past, and what were his nightmares.

Everywhere he looked he saw them again, Lindsay’s pretty red hair flying behind her as they had run through this very island ten years ago, Ray’s rapier held tightly in his hand as he jogged along, before the law of no personal weapons allowed if you were picked, the loud blonde woman who had been the first to die, her screams echoing in his ears still.

He hadn’t meant to split with Michael, he really hadn’t. He had thought the brave warrior would have followed him or something.

Gavin had legged it until his breath went ragged and his vision went spotty, before his legs finally collapsed under him and he crashed to the forest floor, his breath hitching as the tears finally fell.

He was scared. He was so scared and tired and his mind was cracking open like a fragile egg, memories and the present moment merging almost perfectly. He saw Ray laughing as they had survived the first night together, both naively thinking they could actually survive this, saw Michael look around cautiously as the fire they had made to cook all their food lit up the darkening area, like a beacon. Gavin wondered if they had maybe waited until morning to cook the food, would they have still been together, or if the Mad King would have found them anyway. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think at all, he just wished Michael was with him now, that they were back in the city or the courtyard, anywhere far fucking away from this hell.

“The only rule was to not get caught, right?” Ray asked, making Gavin jump, but he nodded anyway, and the smile Ray gave calmed the Creepling’s racing heart enough to not feel like he was going to explode in the next second. “So we just gotta keep going and hiding as best we can. I promise, Gav, I’m going to protect you and we’ll get out of here.”

Gavin finally did cry, wanting to scream at Ray. _No, they were not going to get out of this! No, don’t protect me! There’s nowhere to hide from the Mad King._

“He’s not Mad, Gavvy.” Ray was beside him now, ruffling his hair with a chuckle and Gavin leant into the touch desperately. “Ryan’s still our friend, I know it.”

With a wounded cry, Gavin slammed his fist to the ground, begging for the illusion to end, for no more, to stop taunting him, reminding him of what he had done, what he had seen. He curled up on his side, backing up until he hit the trunk of a large oak, and he made himself as small as he possibly could.

He wanted to see Michael again, he wanted to see Ray and Jeremy again, god, he wanted to see Geoff and Jack one last time if this was the end. Most of all, Gavin wanted to see his mother and father and sister again, but even before these horrible games he would never see them again.

Gavin remembered the day his family had fled from their clan over fifteen years ago, his baby sister thrust into his arms as he was dragged to a different ship than his father. Mother had already saved them at the cost of her light, and now he was being separated from Father, told he and his sister were to be put under the care of a family friend, the king of Éacht with the title High King Geoff Ramsey. Father couldn’t join them, the clan was after him specifically, and if they found Gavin or his baby sister they would just be killed without mercy.

But Gavin ended up arriving to High King Geoff’s court alone, his little baby sister - barely passing her fifth birthday - having gotten ill and died during the trip and Gavin had never felt so alone before.

King Geoff was kind, though, and caring. He helped Gavin mourn and move on from his grief; making new friends with people his own age, Michael being the first, then Jack the Royal Advisor, then the ‘brothers’ Ray and Jeremy and even the Princess before she too fell ill. He had thought he had been friends with Ryan, until the Mad King took over and everything he thought he had gotten back quickly crumbled and he was losing everyone he loved for the second time.

A twig snapping made Gavin’s eyes shoot open, looking around wildly, his Creeper instincts overriding everything as blind panic took in, and he almost wept in joy as it was a bunny hopping by.

The Creepling had a soft spot for the small creatures, and the little black bunny hopped this way and that, the very sight calming his racing heart and his light dimmed in relief. He began to wonder how much time had passed, having known it had just been nightfall when he had seen a glimpse of bright diamond armour, glowing like some twisted pseudo-light Reaper of Death, and now, now he wasn’t too sure. It was still dark, but he was pretty deep in this forest, a part of the island he had never been to before, so he wasn’t completely sure what time of day it is. Looking around quickly, Gavin found some low hanging branches on a nearby oak, and after a few shaky attempts, he managed to stand and head to the tree, climbing faster than a monkey until his head popped up past the large canvas of leaves to see a mockingly beautiful sunrise, the sky ablaze with pinks and oranges and baby blues, a beautiful new day that Gavin idly wondered if it would be his last.

He wasn’t stupid, he had known, as soon as the Mad King had looked at him when announcing the tenth game that he was going to die. Now it was only a case of how long it would take until he was killed. Would he be killed today, tomorrow? Before or after the others?

He only prayed to the higher powers that be that Michael and Jeremy be spared, when it came down to it. Michael didn’t deserve to be hunted like a wild animal, none of them did, but Michael shouldn’t die such an ignoble death. He was a warrior, born to fight for his kingdom. The same for Jeremy, young as he was, Jeremy had shown the world he was strong, coming to par even Michael’s strength at times.

Gavin didn’t want any of his friends to die, but what he wanted wasn’t worth listening to apparently to the higher powers. He had known this when Lindsay had fallen, when he had been caught, when he watched Ray…

But he still hoped. He fucking hoped and prayed because he had nothing left. If he couldn’t live, let his friends survive. Geoff should have fought the Mad King when these wicked games started. He still could! He was strong still for his age, Jack too!

Gavin slumped back until his back was against the tree, wrapping his scarf more snuggly over his face and covering as much flesh as he could to blend into the tree’s foliage. He didn’t want to die.

“I don’t want to die!” He heard the shrieks of Lindsay in the distance and he flinched, a muffled whining hiss escaping him. “Please have mercy!”

The Mad King was anything but merciful, Gavin knew that for certain. He was ruthless, sadistic, _insane._ He found pleasure in hunting innocent people, killing them slowly. The loud blonde had been the first to fall, but Gavin, Ray and Lindsay had not imagined what had actually happened when they heard her scream. Lindsay had been next, and soon after Gavin had been caught. He absently touched his collarbone as he felt like he couldn’t breathe, his eyes blurring.

Ray was sitting practically in his lap, tugging on something, maybe his scarf, Gavin couldn’t tell, couldn’t feel. He looked so worried, looking around every so often for threats.

“Why did you leave me?” Gavin found himself asking, his voice thick. But Ray hadn’t known. He hadn’t known Gavin had turned at the wrong time, that he had ran straight into a hole. That he had been caught by Ryan, his eyes sparkling with something awful, his entire being so drastically different from the first time any of them had met him. “Why have you left me alone? You said you’d protect me, that we’d get out of this.”

He drew his legs closer, still finding his balance on the large branch he sat on, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. Tucking his head in, he clicked and chirped, unable to use the complex human language to express his pain anymore.

“You promised…” He hissed.

Chapter done!

_Take your turn to run and hide_  
_I will catch you all the time_  
_This night no longer shines_  
_Your tears divine_  
_You'll now be mine!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is not okay in the head.  
> It was actually as I was writing this chapter that I got the inspiration to write The Rose is Red, to explain why Gavin is so far gone.


	3. Faded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack cupped the back of Geoff’s neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched, Geoff grabbing at the back of Jack’s neck and they squeezed their eyes shut, wishing this won’t be the last time they see each other.  
> “Stay safe, my King.”

Jack and Geoff had a crude plan. They would stay together until they had good enough defences before splitting up. Both were not fond of the plan, they wouldn’t know if the other got caught or killed until either they survived or until Ryan came for them like the Grim Reaper in human flesh.

Jack kept watch as Geoff gathered wood to make some weapons, using the strongest pieces of wood as he fashioned a wooden sword for himself and a large ax for Jack.

“You think the lads are going to be okay? Gavin specifically?” Jack asked as the silence stifled him, but he kept his voice quiet.

Geoff paused in his work, turning to Jack with pain in his eyes and that was answer enough. He didn’t. It pulled at Jack’s heart. The boys were only in their twenties, they shouldn’t be terrified for their lives. They should be focusing on who they wished to court, or on protecting the kingdom as Jeremy and Michael were both wonderful warriors.

But Ryan seemed to love watching the boys suffer, to watch Gavin break down. Jack had seen Gavin’s face under the hood just barely when they were ‘chosen’ for this year’s game, and it was like his face crumpled, utter despair and terror explicit on his expression. He had seen Jeremy and Michael pale until everyone was deathly white as they all imagined the terror the poor folk who had been taken must have felt.

Geoff returned to his work, still not saying a word. He had been mute for several hours, and Jack wondered why. It was completely unlike the once High King of Éacht to be so down and silent, but at the same time, Jack could hardly blame him. They were on an island with their friends being hunted by the one they had once thought was a good friend, a kind man.

Jack still remembered the loud fights he had had with Geoff when Ryan had returned with Gavin, pale, bloody and traumatized, after the first hunt, demanding Geoff to stop Ryan before anyone else is taken. Geoff had fought back, saying he had no say as he gave up his crown to the younger man, that it wouldn’t happen again, Ryan wasn’t that insane.

Jack blinked, and found a wooden ax, large and strong looking, in his face, Geoff looking determined at him.

“Here. Until we find iron or something better. Or when we split up.” Geoff said as he gave the ax to Jack, who tested the wooden grip and the feel of the crude but well-made weapon.

“We have until dawn, we can find iron or good stone before then, I’m sure.” Jack tried to look optimistically at their chances to get better weapons, even though he feared for the boys, and for themselves as well.

They spent the time looking for good stone or an open mine to quickly look for iron or other minerals, but only found stone by the time the sun was setting. They crafted as many weapons as they could, not knowing how long they would last or how long the two would remain alive.

They stood facing each other as the sun slipped behind the horizon, very little light available to see each other but they knew how the other looked like the back of their hands.

Jack cupped the back of Geoff’s neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched, Geoff grabbing at the back of Jack’s neck and they squeezed their eyes shut, wishing this won’t be the last time they see each other.

“Stay safe, my King.” Jack whispered, feeling Geoff’s hand squeeze his neck.

“Stay safe, Jack. You have been the best friend an asshole like me could have ever had.” Geoff’s voice betrayed his relaxed words as it shook and threatened to crack.

Geoff pulled away first, but Jack refused to open his eyes, even as he heard his closest friend leave the area, his hand still outstretched like he would find Geoff again, just the smallest bit out of reach.

When he opened his eyes, Geoff had long gone, and Jack prayed to meet again.

He slept fitfully, waking up still before dawn and decided to search for food. He was hunting when the sky turned lighter, signalling dawn and the terror that would soon begin. He managed to find animals, and caught a few. He worked quickly in skinning them, taking the leather from the cows and wondering if he would have time to make armour with them if he had enough. Jack decided to wait until the nighttime to attempt to make armour. He just had to hide and gather as much as he could before then. Despite Jack’s size, he could be quiet and invisible in a forest when he wanted to, when he was alone.

There had been a few scares, Jack thinking he saw something that had him ducking behind bushes or trees. But nothing happened the first day, and Jack found himself coming towards a simple wooden bridge as the sun was setting low in the horizon, leading to another island and after looking around for any signs of danger, ran across the bridge as quickly as he could.

He reached the other side of the bridge as the sun set completely and Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He had heard nothing all day from the others, not seeing them or hearing anything, good or bad.

He was building himself a makeshift campsite, not making a fire in fear of causing Ryan to find him. He could barely see anything in the thick canopy around him, besides the distant orange beacon that marked the island he had just been on.

Jack was too keyed up to rest, not feeling safe but knowing his body should rest a bit, and he closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the distant shriek broke the calm, jerking him awake and he heard another shout that was quickly cut off.

And then silence.

Jack stared at the direction the noises had come from, wondering who it might have been. From the distance, the voice was lost to Jack, but the tone, the terrified shriek specifically, was one that set chills down his spine. He prayed it wasn’t Geoff or any of the boys, but… The shriek sounded decidedly young, even from Jack’s distance.

He couldn’t sleep now, his mind awhirl with ideas and fears. If it had been because one of them got caught by Ryan, he had to guess Ryan was on a different island, far from him. He wasn’t sure if that reassured him or worried him.

Chapter done!

_These shallow waters never met what I needed_  
_I'm letting go a deeper dive_  
_Eternal silence of the sea. I'm breathing alive_  
_Where are you now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Double update!  
> This chapter just felt much shorter than the others, so enjoy the next one!


	4. Survive the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew from experience that anything near the beacons were obscured if they weren’t too large, and as he thought, an idea formed.

The first day of preparation had been good, and Jeremy had thought the three of them would do it. Although it was only him and Michael working to make weapons and talking strategy, the two never even had the thought of leaving or berating the half-Creeper. Both young fighters knew the haunted eyes and mannerisms their friend shown, similar to the older knights and warriors who fought in the wars. But while warriors knew the risks to their mental stability, to an extent, Gavin was an innocent, not meant to see the horrors of war and countless deaths. It affected him far more than either Jeremy or Michael could have thought possible.

So Jeremy stayed with his friends, before heading off to find some food for the three of them. He promised he would be back later in the night and with his crude stone sword he headed off, not realizing his promise would soon be broken but not by any fault of his own.

He had caught a couple thin rabbits and fat squirrels when he heard the shriek and Jeremy stumbled, startling the rabbit he had been stalking for the past half hour, turning to face where the shriek had come from. Without thinking twice about it Jeremy ran back to where he last saw his friends.

When Jeremy reached the makeshift camp fear sat like lead in his stomach. The camp was abandoned, the fire they had made just burning embers and a few forgotten cuts of cooked meat laying on the rocks that made the enclosure of the fire. Gavin and Michael were nowhere to be seen.

Groaning softly in frustration, Jeremy looked around, hoping maybe one would have circled back or left some sort of message or clue as to why they left before the shriek came back to mind and his mouth went dry.

“God no, please.” He whispered to the air, holding his sword tightly and at the ready in case something appeared in the darkness that wasn’t friendly. “Please, _please be okay._ ”

Feeling paranoid that someone with malevolent intent would return to the campsite, Jeremy quickly grabbed the cooked meat, packed up the dead animals he had already, and left in what he hoped would be a good direction.

He found a good hiding place to spend the night in a large cave. He quickly skinned and prepared the meat to cook in the morning, worried he would be seen if he started a fire in the dead of night, even if he felt the chill cut through his cloak like a blade.

Jeremy slept uneasily, fitfully as he worried about his friends. He didn’t know what had caused the shriek, although he had a guess and hoped he was wrong. He had to believe that Gavin and Michael could protect themselves against whatever happened while he had been gone, and that he’d be able to find them before the Mad King did.

In the morning Jeremy felt like he hadn’t slept a bit, but he knew he couldn’t stay for too long in the cave. He quickly woke himself up and made a small fire to cook the meat, and had everything ready by the time the sun had almost risen high in the sky. He was thankful he hadn’t heard or seen anyone during the whole time as he packed the meat carefully for eating later.

Mulling over ideas, Jeremy left the cave to walk through the forest on the main island, treading carefully like his brother taught him when he was younger. He always had been envious about the stealth and silence Ray had when they grew up and even before the first Game, before any of them had even heard of the mage Ryan, Jeremy had begged to learn how he could move so quickly without making a sound.

Thinking about Ray gave Jeremy an uncomfortable feeling in his gut as he felt a flash of anger towards the Mad King and Gavin before shame for blaming Gavin, who had just been a victim like his brother. Gavin couldn’t even talk to Jeremy about his brother without sounding guilty, as if he had been the one to kill Ray.

Shaking his head to dislodge that train of thought, Jeremy blinked in surprise as he found himself close to the shore with a large wooden bridge connecting this island to another with a distant blue  beacon shining up brightly even in the daylight. He looked around carefully between the clearing and the start of the bridge, searching for anyone nearby before making a break for it, trying to keep his feet light and disturb as little of the ground as possible, a feat he was only good at half the time.

He dashed across the bridge with little disturbance and made it to the other side in minutes. Surveying the area, Jeremy began to think this particular island might not have been the best idea to hide in. Sure he saw a few mountainous areas, with wide cave openings dotting a few of the larger hills and smaller mountains, but the fact he could see those as clearly as he did meant the Mad King could see just as well. He had to think of a way around that as he scanned the area, his eyes wandering over to the large beacon.

He knew from experience that anything near the beacons were obscured if they weren’t too large, and as he thought, an idea formed.

The rules were to survive, right? Well, from the many stories that went around the bars and taverns of Éacht, the Mad King never used anything but a sword, and while the water was forbidden to enter, there had been no law restricting the air.

Jeremy ran to the beacon as quickly and quietly as he could, thankful for his rather bland clothes that could easily blend into the environment. He reached it by late day, the sun resting a few feet above the few trees that made a weak excuse for a forest on the blue beacon island and he sized up the area around it. Solid, coarse dirt, rich and perfect for what Jeremy planned to do.

Freeing his hands to continue, he looked around to make sure he was alone before he took a deep breath, channeling his very being. He had magic, not to the same caliber as the Mad King, not even close, but he was better than a novice, although he still needed to incant verbally to perform the various tasks he set his mind to, and as he focused on the ground a couple feet from the beacon, he uttered a simple “thógáil talamh” and a small mound erupted from where he was looking.

The mound was the first ‘block’ as Jeremy decided to think of them as, a small sort of platform with enough room to take three regular-sized steps in any directions before walking off the edge. Before he continued his spell he quickly stood on top of the mound before continuing the incantation, using his hands to guide his magic along. He would raise and raise the blocks of earth and soon he was getting as high as the tallest peak of the tallest mountain on the island, and still Jeremy wasn’t seen.

The problem with magic is that it takes a lot out of the user, sapping their energy unless they took many stamina potions throughout the incantations. Sadly, Jeremy had no stamina potions, so he had to use all the energy he had to spare to bring him steadily out of reach to even a bow if the stories were false. Once he reached a safe height, he took a short break to regain his breath before looking around.

“Leathnú.” He intoned, and the small, three step platform grew until he was certain he could lay down without any part of him hanging over the end.

Panting from the exertion of using his own energy to perform magic, Jeremy sat down in the middle of his platform, happy for the crisp high altitude air. He was fine for hopefully a couple days. He knew he had enough food to last a few days, although only had enough water for probably a day and a half. He also knew from a distance he would be hard to spot, being right beside the beacon, and even if the Mad King or someone else tried to bring him down, they wouldn’t be able to topple the tower. The magic infused with the dirt made it so that even if a block was to be destroyed on the base, it would simply take to floating, without even using any of Jeremy’s energy to keep it so.

Now that he was sure he was safe for a while, his mind wandered sluggishly, exhausted from the strain of using magic. His mind focused on the island he had been on, where he last saw Michael and Gavin, and hoped they were all right. He didn’t really worry about his fellow warrior, he was skilled and strong. The Mad King wouldn’t be able to kill him easily.

But Gavin, the half-Creeper was another story. He wasn’t himself in this area haunted with the dead and he could only pray to the gods that he wasn’t alone, that someone was looking after him, and that one preferably being Michael. Because Michael, Jeremy knew, loved Gavin deeply, deeper than friendship or like brothers. He saw it in the way Michael kept the half-Creeper close for years after the first game, in the way he slept with Gavin after a night terror occurred, curling around each other like their lives depended on it. Michael would be able to protect Gavin.

A small voice whispered in the back of his head, _Let’s just hope Michael is able to protect himself as well._

Chapter done!

_We're not so scary if you see us in the daylight  
You'll be so happy just as long as you survive the night_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic is so handy for making sense of Minecraft bullshit gravity.  
> Also, I love thinking of Ray and Jeremy being like brothers.


	5. Glitter and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They were people, Ryan!” Geoff cried. “Men and women, people with futures you forcefully took from them. Ray was a kid. Gavin was a kid when you ruined him.”  
> Ryan just shrugged. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone but Death when my own time comes. My reasons are my own, Geoff.”  
> “So you never felt remorse for what you’ve done?”  
> “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Ray was bitter.

Sure, the ghost could be happy to be able to watch like a guardian angel over his friends, but what was the use of a guardian angel who could _only_ watch, unable to communicate with the others?

Ever since he had been called back to the land of the living, Ray had found himself more or less haunting his friends, his little brother, and Ryan. And while Ray knew he would never grow older, look older like Gavin and Michael, he enjoyed watching them. He enjoyed seeing Jeremy grow taller – though not by a lot, he still looked tiny compared to their friends – and see all three of them grow closer to each other.

But he also saw what the effects of his own death caused on the three of them, and on the old King and his old advisor. He saw Gavin’s constant fear, saw Jeremy’s and Michael’s frustration and anger, saw Old King Geoff’s hopelessness and saw the cracks in Jack’s smiles when he looked at the younger three, as if imagining Ray with them.

And then there was Ryan, the King, the Mad King, the man that murdered him, murdered Lindsay and that blonde woman. The man who wouldn’t stop murdering. The man who coerced his baby brother’s best friend to play in his game under the threat of exchanging him for Jeremy himself.

Hearing that had boiled Ray’s non-existent blood and he had spent an hour yelling uselessly at the King, wishing he could be heard, wishing he could shake the sense back into his old friend’s mind. But he was only a witness, drifting from the King to Geoff to Jack to his closest friends.

So he was bitter and furious when Ryan decided one night that he was tired of seeing the old King and wanted to have a challenge. He had shouted at the King to not do it, had shouted at the other five to not let him do it, but he knew it was useless.

He could only watch as his friends, his baby brother, were brought to island, watch as they separated between the older two and the younger three. He could only watch as he saw the armoury that Ryan had created on another island, saw the magical items contained within dozens and dozens of chests and enough armour and weapons for a small army.

And worse of all, he saw the room filled with the bodies of the men and women he caught and killed, their bodies preserved through magic and held up using stands, with his own dead body, clear of blood and eyes open and unseeing, standing right by the door leading in.

Ray had refused to return to the island since his death, refusing to see if Ryan ever regretted the countless amount of murders he committed as he kept his spirit with Gavin, or his brother as they tried to go about their days normally. But now he was here, and with growing horror, he knew Ryan never regretted a single death, the bodies like trophies standing as proof. If Ray had a stomach, he would have been sick.

After seeing the room, Ray immediately left Ryan’s side, horrified by what he had seen, to find someone. He found himself watching the three young men, as they gathered large wooden blocks and smaller sticks and make crude weapons like axes and swords. Or, at least Ray saw Michael and Jeremy doing things. Gavin seemed stricken, shaking when he wasn’t moving, and latching onto the two. Ray could hardly blame him, even as a ghost, this place filled his ethereal being with fear and he wished, just like Gavin, to be anywhere but here.

* * *

 

Ray wasn’t sure what caused it, but the next day, the first day of his friends being hunted, around midday, he felt something ripple through him, and he was forcefully tugged away from watching Jeremy and Michael try to plan.

When Ray moved between the six he seemed to be bound by, it was more one second he was watching the lads and when he blinked he was with one of the older men. So when he was tugged away, he barely got to react before he found himself gliding through a forest on another island, a man with brilliant diamond armour and a diamond sword in hand – Ray wondered briefly where his first blade had gone – and sitting atop a black beast of a horse, riding as if with purpose.

Confused, Ray followed like he was attached to Ryan as he rode through a thin forest, and at the base of the mountain he saw a large cave opening. Ryan, apparently knowing where he was going as he never took his eyes off the cave, let the horse trot, not in any hurry and Ray was confused and worried. _What is he doing?_ He wondered.

He found out a few minutes later, more a blink of an eye to the invisible ghost, when he and Ryan reached the entrance of the cave. Ryan quickly dismounted and headed for the entrance with his sword drawn and casually by his side, as grace as a King could be.

Ray looked on ahead. As a ghost he wasn’t allowed too far away from the people he was haunting (although he wasn’t too sure it was haunting as he couldn’t communicate in any form with them but he had no better word to use). In fact, he could only be about fifty feet away from any of his living friends and Ryan, so he used the end of his equally invisible leash to see ahead, and luckily didn’t have to go far.

For around a corner in the dimly lit cave was a man that Ray would know anywhere, having grown up looking up to him and serving him loyally, although for a very short amount of period. Geoff stood as regally as Ryan, the years of him leading Éacht showing in the way he stood, his face impassive but his eyes, from what Ray could see, were hard, cold, the complete opposite from how the ghost used to see the old King’s eyes.

Ryan reached the corner a couple steps later, a slow grin spreading across his features.

“Alone in your final hours?” He asked, and was answered with a stony silence. Ray stood off to the side, even though he could be anywhere and not be in the way of the two Kings.

“I thought I’d let everyone a chance to live past the first twenty-four hours.” There was the Kingly Voice Ray detested in Geoff’s voice, the voice that sentenced laws, the voice that couldn’t mourn his own daughter’s death because he had to lead his land. It was similar to Ryan’s Kingly Voice, a sort of detached sound from their personalities, the fair judge of all.

“I suppose that’s smart.” The smile twisted on Ryan’s face. “I also suppose you never told anyone.”

“Why would I? They’d try to stop me and end up dead themselves.”

Ryan nodded in speculative agreement. “True. Pity.”

“Pity?” Geoff’s voice grew colour as anger painted his words red. “Pity they can have the chance to live? Three of these people are still so young, Ryan. Three young men with futures that you’re trying to destroy."

“And what about your lovely advisor?” Ryan sounded amused.

“None of us should have to be put through this.” Geoff shook his head. “Jack deserves to live, those three deserve to live. Ray and everyone you’ve hunted should still be alive.”

“If you had kept being King, maybe.” Ryan shrugged. “But Fate had other plans.”

“Do you even feel remorse for those deaths?” Geoff demanded, hands in fists and Ray watched with wide eyes.

“I would lean more towards annoyance that none I had faced were really the most dangerous game, I suppose.”

“They were people, Ryan!” Geoff cried. “Men and women, people with futures you forcefully took from them. Ray was a kid. Gavin was a kid when you ruined him.”

Ryan just shrugged. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone but Death when my own time comes. My reasons are my own, Geoff.”

“So you never felt remorse for what you’ve done?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Ryan said instead, raising his sword, his twisted smile still in place. Geoff slowly revealed a strong looking stone sword by his side and drew it and both Kings’ faces shut down to emotionless masks. Ray couldn’t look away as the first swing swung.

They moved like in a dance, their feet moving gracefully around the large cave floor, and they sliced and thrust and twirled out of the way in ways Ray had never seen before. It made his last fight look pathetic, like it had been a child’s play fight.

Geoff and Ryan were evenly matched, even with the difference of weapons. Despite Geoff’s sword being made of hastily-made stone, really only a single step up from wooden weapons to be sure, he held his own and the blade seemed slow to crack, although still at a faster speed than Ryan’s diamond blade.

But he wasn’t evenly protected. Unlike Ryan wearing a complete diamond armour set, protecting most if not all his major areas from sword blows, old King Geoff wore a simple grass-green tunic and leggings with leather boots and absolutely nothing protecting his head. While Ray didn’t want to watch, wanted to look elsewhere, be elsewhere, he couldn’t make himself move. He simply watched as the diamond armour made the stone glance off like water drops, and a diamond blade biting lightly and then more deeply into the other’s unprotected arms and sides, nicking and slashing the flesh, staining the green tunic into spots of rusty brownish-red as blood seeped sluggishly through the small wounds that began to pile up.

The dance quickened until it was a blur even to the ghost, and all he saw was the dull gray stone blur and occasionally stop when hit with a bright bluish-white blur and next thing Ray knew, the dance ended.

Both Kings were panting lightly, their chests pressed against one another, and for a moment Ray wondered what happened, until he noticed Ryan’s sword-wielding hand. It looked bent at a somewhat awkward angle, pressing close to Geoff’s chest but he still held the sword.

Ray gave a quiet cry as he realized what he just witnessed, and stepped forward as if he could do something, but he couldn’t. The sword was buried hilt deep in and through Geoff’s chest, probably not piercing his heart but there was no way the former King could survive that.

Ryan wrapped his other hand around Geoff and helped the old King to lay down, an almost kind gesture that was the opposite of how he had been until then, and slid the sword, with a sickening squelching sound and the three could see the bluish-white blade stained deep, deep red even in the dim light.

Geoff coughed, the first sound in several long moments, a wet sound that made Ray wonder if that was how he sounded when he died, remembering the weird feeling of liquid in his throat that hadn’t been there a couple seconds ago.

“Pro-” Geoff coughed wetly again and Ray saw spittle mixed with blood escape his lips as he spoke. “Promise to spare some of them. Forever. Once they” another hacking cough “survive, they never return.”

Ryan seemed to think about it, before a smile appeared, a smile that was closer to looking friendly and kind, a smile that reminded Ray of when he first met the man and had been seduced by his charming nature. “I suppose. Now sleep, Geoffrey. Don’t worry, the two who will survive will be spared.”

Geoff seemed pained as he moved his head to face Ryan head on, his eyes hard. “I hope you... find... find the light again, Ryan. I would... still forgive you if you do.”

Ryan chuckled, a strange mix of dark and light in his tone. “Can’t you already tell, dear old King? I fell decades ago. I was never light.”

Geoff didn’t reply, outside of coughing violently, his blood flying and spotting Ryan’s armour and the small amounts of skin that wasn’t protected. Ray just watched, unsure how he was feeling as he watched the scene.

“Now sleep, my old King. No more worries, just eternal rest.” Ryan said, straightening his back although he continued to kneel beside Geoff, his bloodied sword resting beside the clean stone sword.

It seemed like forever for Geoff to follow Ryan’s words, his breath slowing into the death rattling wheeze before that too faded into silence, and still Ryan waited. Ray felt the moment Geoff’s spirit passed on and for a couple moments he wondered if Geoff would be expecting him when he entered that room or if he would also be ‘called’ to haunt their friends.

Ray knew, after those brief moments passed, that Geoff had fully moved on, could guess he woke up in that room with the whites and creams that blended forever in the distance, and that was where he would stay like Lindsay stayed, like his mother and father stayed. Geoff would now have to wait, like Lindsay had to have waited for Ray, for the others that would meet Ryan.

He wondered if he would ever go back to that room.

Chapter done!

_Do you walk in the valley of kings?_  
_Do you walk in the shadow of men_  
_who sold their lives to a dream?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it too late to say sorry? But, I did tag major character death, soooo  
> <3 you!


	6. Puppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could do nothing but sit in front of the half-Creeper and beg for forgiveness, knowing the words would never reach the living.

The collar felt restrictive against Michael’s throat, but not choking him. It was heavy enough to be noticeable but didn’t chafe or hurt much when he moved his neck to look around.

Since he had been caught and told to help hunt, Michael had been going around carefully, but not really searching so he could call Ryan. He wanted to find Gavin but didn’t want him to be caught or hurt because of him. Michael could only hope he could figure out something.

So when he heard the shuffling in some trees, he wasn’t sure if he was lucky or the gods had heard his plan. He stilled to make out where the noise came from, and sure enough, the familiar hissing and clicking of Creeper language could be heard in a large oak, although he couldn’t see said Creepling as he blended perfectly with the mottled leaves.

Thinking quickly, while keeping his own thoughts vague on the off chance the King could hear all his thoughts whenever he wanted, Michael grabbed his bag and looked through it. The meat still looked good and wouldn’t rot for another week or so, and he quickly divided between him and the Creepling, wondering if Gavin had eaten since the last time Michael made him eat.

Once he was finished dividing the food, he looked up, still hearing the distressing chirps Gavin made. His chest hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to call out to him, comfort him as best he could and never let the King find his Creepling.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what exactly Ryan could do with the telepathic bond he forced upon the warrior with the obsidian collar. So he settled with putting the food together in a makeshift sack, muttering a quiet apology to Gavin and threw the good meat hopefully at him, and ran off.

He ran off before he could hear the sharp hissing warning as Gavin was hit practically full on the face by the sack before it turned into a confused chirp. He ran off before Gavin could look between the leaves for the thing that flung a sack full of perfectly good food at him, before Gavin could whimper out a hopeful “Micoo?”

He ran off before Ryan could catch up with the warrior’s thoughts.

Ray

Ray stayed watching Ryan for a while after Geoff’s death, an unexplainable emotion solidifying in the ghost’s gut like lead while the living King had an unreadable expression. He sat with the corpse for several minutes, not doing anything before he quickly and carefully wiped the blood of his sword on the former King’s leggings. He stood soon after, sheathing his sword and looking almost tenderly at the slain man.

“It had been fun, friend. You were the greatest game thus far.” He said before heading off.

Ray had left his side immediately after, the feeling of death crawling up the ghost’s throat like spiders, and needed to leave the King. He flitted between his friends and Jack, watching as they worked, completely oblivious to Geoff’s death. He wanted to, shake them, force them to know, but as a witness he could not be seen nor heard by the living, leaving the teen frustrated. He watched as Jeremy went off to hunt some animals, promising Michael and Gavin he’d return while they made a fire in the darkening woods to cook the meat they had so far. He watched Jack wander until the sun was setting before setting up camp, watched Jeremy using the techniques he taught him when they had been younger, watched Michael and Gavin look around worriedly as the bright illumination of the fire seemed to shine like a beacon around them.

Ray watched as Gavin’s eyes went huge, his breath hitching before a splitting shriek escaped him, startling Michael as he had just stomped out the fire. He watched his two friends bolt, Michael barely getting all the cooked meat into his sack he held. He followed with growing worry as Michael got caught by Ryan, fearing the worst, before screwing his face in confusion as he saw a familiar object in Ryan’s other hand that didn’t hold his diamond sword.

The last time Ray saw that purplish-black circle, it had been around Gavin’s neck, visible as Gavin had removed his scarf beforehand. It had been around his friend’s neck when Ray died, and he missed everything that went on between the warrior and the Mad King until he snapped back to attention.

“-not tell me if you found one of the others, especially that Creepling you are so fond of…” Ryan trailed off, and Ray saw a dangerous glint in his eyes. Michael nodded quickly and Ryan seemed to smile his twisting smile. “Go forth, dear siren. Let the real fun begin.”

Michael had bolted soon after, apparently feeling the same as Ray to leave the older man’s presence immediately. Ray saw as Michael tried to pull and tug at the black collar, and the ghost was surprised to see small little currents of electricity zap at Michael’s fingers until he gave up all attempts.

Soon Michael stumbled over to a tree and collapsed, and Ray took that as an excuse to see Gavin without feeling guilty about leaving Michael.

What he saw with the half-Creeper, Ray thought if he had a beating heart, it would have broken at the sight.

Gavin shook violently, his breath gasping and erratic, as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his body. His gasps were wet, and when Ray took a closer look, he saw tears splashing on the ground. Ray never wanted to be physical more than at this moment. Gavin was alone, on this island of nightmares, and probably had no idea what happened to Michael.

Ray watched helplessly as Gavin broke down, howling like a wounded animal and he jumped when the half-Creeper pounded the ground with a fist. He heard his friend cry in the unfamiliar language of the Creepers, his head shaking back and forth viciously as if to dispel wayward thoughts, and he watched as Gavin almost desperately pushed himself backwards until he hit a tree and curled up.

Ray guessed the half-Creeper fell asleep, but he couldn’t be certain as quiet noises of distress continued to be heard from him at random times. Afraid to leave him for even a single blink of an eye, Ray sat down beside his friend, wishing he could soothingly pet his friend.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Gavin shot up, staring intensely at a bush when a small black rabbit wandered through. The half-Creeper gave a silent sigh of relief before he seemed to take his bearings before looking up at the canopy of leaves, hiding the sky. He saw Gavin quickly set about to climb one of the trees, and before too long, he slumped against the tree, sitting on a sturdy branch.

Ray had just floated down to sit in front of Gavin when it seemed like the half-Creeper could actually see him, staring at the ghost with watery, cracked seaweed eyes.

“Why did you leave me?” Gavin asked suddenly, his voice thick “Why have you left me alone? You said you’d protect me, that we’d get out of this.”

Ray felt guilt bubble, and he leant forward to cup his friend’s cheek, feeling horrible as his fingers passed through like always. “I’m sorry, Gav. I’m sorry.”

Gavin just hissed in the Creeper language, ducking his head as he whimpered and while Ray knew he didn’t have a working heart, he felt it break as he watched. He could do nothing but sit in front of the half-Creeper and beg for forgiveness, knowing the words would never reach the living.

Michael

It was nearing sundown when Michael decided to rest, after searching two islands half-heartedly for the others. He sat down against a tree, panting from all the running, and looked into his sack. He had a water skin probably half full still that he would soon have to find clean water to refill and three more pieces of meat to eat.

He ate quickly, ignoring the now bland taste of cooked meat when he heard the thumps of heavy steps from an animal, and soon enough, he saw the still terrifying glint of bluish-white armour. Swallowing drily, Michael sat up as the horse and rider approached.

“So, my siren, did you find anyone?” He asked casually, like he was simply asking about the weather.

Michael shook his head, keeping his face as impassive as possible, but as he looked back at the King, he almost retreated.

Ryan had a bright look about his face, his eyes flashing such an icy blue it chilled the warrior’s spine. The King just tilted his head, “Oh? Is that so? Then why had you been thinking of sending food up a tree?”

Michael’s eyes widened and his heart stumbled a couple beats as he forgot how to speak and Ryan seemed to have expected that reaction.

“Really, Michael.” He shook his head like a father would at a child for lying to their face, a small smile on his face. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to hear everything you thought? I knew exactly when you found your Creepling. I knew that you wouldn’t tell me, but I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

_Come to what?_ Michael wondered, too nervous to speak his mind, and anyway, as the Mad King just said, he could hear everything he thought.

“Puipéad.” Ryan said and Michael’s head drooped forward, his body sagging until he was kneeling, his body limp as a doll.

He tried to speak, to demand what had happened when he felt a hand lift his chin so he could look into the King’s eyes.

“I wanted to do the honours myself, but you couldn’t give up your precious love, could you?” Ryan had a condescending tone in his voice, a small smile that curled Michael’s stomach nervously. “I thought you had understood, Mogar. You are my siren, you tell me where my prey are.”

Ryan dropped Michael’s chin before seeming to flick his wrist and Michael moved to stand without meaning to.

“This is only temporary, my siren. If you find the Halfling, instead of telling me, you will…” Ryan leant close to Michael’s ear to whisper the word that sent a shard of ice straight to his heart.

“You will kill him yourself.”

Chapter done!

_So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb_  
_Now I’m just numb_  
_I don’t feel a thing for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the other chapters, this is the only one of two that is not titled after a song. The lyrics go with Novocaine, though.


	7. Sad Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why, isn’t is obvious, Gavvy-wavvy?” The twisting smile returned, hurting Michael’s face to keep it up, and Gavin flinched as if it hurt him. “The Mad King sent me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath*

Gavin, as soon as the food had whacked him in the face, knew Michael was nearby. He gave a startled squawk when he had been hit, his limbs waving wildly in a poor attempt to deflect anything to come, a sharp hiss threatening anyone or anything nearby before his senses sorted out what had happened. He saw the sack, barely held together to hold the modest mound of cooked meat that was cut in the way Michael preferred.

He brought the food close to his hood, checking closely to see if anything had been done to the food before realizing it was just food. More importantly, it was food prepared by Michael and the Creepling’s mind flashed to the night before, before the diamond attack.

They had been splitting the food between the two of them, knowing whatever Jeremy found would be for him only.

Gavin blinked rapidly, eyes wide, and his body moved before his mind caught up. He quickly stashed the sack among his wrappings and whirled around, where the food might’ve been thrown from.

When he saw nothing, he shuffled lower, and in a weak voice – his throat had been wrecked from everything he had been through since separating from Michael – the Creepling called out, a pitiful sound in the quiet forest.

“Micoo?” He chirped, looking around, hopeful to see his closest friend, but saw nothing. Without knowing, tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He called again, looking all over his tree he hid in, but still, no sign of his Michael.

_“You can’t stay here.”_ A whisper startled Gavin, and he whipped around, nearly falling off the branch he held on to, and his face scrunched in confusion. The whisper, although faint, sounded achingly familiar but Gavin couldn’t put a name to it. _“You have to go.”_

“Where?” The Creepling asked in his wrecked voice, righting himself on the tree. “Where?”

_“Away from here.”_

Gavin got no other answer to that, so he took the word of the familiar whisper, and on shaky legs, he headed off, lost and alone.

Michael

The entire night Michael did not stop moving. He couldn’t really, even if he wanted to. His body would no longer listen to his mind, it listened to the will of the King.

So Michael’s body walked throughout the night, ignoring his tired mind wishing to rest, to eat, to even have something to drink, in favour of listening to someone else’s will. Michael could only hope his body would drop before he found anyone, specifically his best friend.

Sadly, luck and the deities also ignored his thoughts when he noticed achingly familiar tracks. His body stiffened before setting off, following the tracks easily. Gavin was never the best at hiding from Michael, no matter how much he tried. The lightest steps to an inexperienced tracker would look like a small animal’s footprints or a young child, but Michael knew from experience they belonged to the Creepling.

He found Gavin walking slowly, tired from maybe also wandering the island the entire night, by the seaside, his footsteps light as a feather and not leaving so much as slight indentions in the sand. He didn’t realize anyone was around as he walked, and Michael wanted to shout for his best friend to run, to notice he was close enough to hurt him, to stop his body from walking forward.

The sand crunched loudly in the quiet of the pre-dawn and Gavin whipped around, his body stiff, scared and confused, before he recognized the person standing in front of him.

“Micoo!” He cried, and Michael’s heart clenched at how pitiful the Creepling sounded. Gavin spread his arms wide and closed the distance, enveloping the warrior in a bear hug, using all his strength as Michael felt the tension and worry leave the slight body. “Micoo, Micoo, you’re here.”

The Creepling chirped happily as shaking set in, worrying the warrior but still his body wouldn’t do anything. “Micoo, Micoo, Micoo, I was so scared, Micoo. I thought he got you, I thought you were gone like Ray, like Lindsay. I thought I would see him before seeing you again.”

_You’re not safe here, idiot._ Michael wanted to scream at him, to push him away, as he heard an unfamiliar laugh in his head. _Please, run, leave me, Gavvy._

Gavin pulled away, his shaking lessening as Michael saw a wet, wobbling smile under the hood. Michael and Ray had been the only two to ever see Gavin’s face fully uncovered, an honour in the Creeper culture and a gesture of trust and safety towards the person they revealed their face to.

“But you wouldn’t leave me just like that, would you, Micoo?” He joked, and Michael’s face twisted into an unnatural smile.

“Of course not, Gavvy-wavvy.” He found himself saying smoothly, his petname for the Creepling now coming out condescending and Gavin noticed. The Creepling removed his hands from around the warrior, his hood only just slightly on his head, revealing his face for the world to see if they turned to look, his scarf hanging loosely around his neck.

“Micoo?” The child-like tone in Gavin’s wrecked voice pulled at Michael’s heart and he desperately fought for some form of communication with Gavin to run.

Instead, his head dropped like the string holding it up had snapped and a dark, unnatural laugh escaped him that scared Gavin as well as Michael himself. He saw Gavin take another step back in fear and he could only guess the scared, worried expression plainly visible on the Creepling’s face.

“The Mad King sends his regards.” Michael said, one hand going to his belt where his crude sword sat, while his other hand bolted after the retreating Creepling, grabbing at his loose shirt.

A loud ripping, tearing sound was heard between the two young men as Gavin’s shirt’s neckline ripped open, revealing more pale skin of a half-Creeper.

“Michael!” Gavin cried, wrenching his shirt out of Michael’s grip but he was too late, the hand had let go of the cloth to surge forward, tripping him up by grabbing his throat and sending him on his back, Michael straddling his waist.

His head was still dipped down, but as Gavin was now below him, Michael could see his best friend so clearly. His eyes were the size of saucers, his pale skin even paler, his hands over Michael’s hand but both knew Michael would always win whenever they wrestled.

“Michael, what are you doing?” Gavin asked, his wrecked voice strained as both could tell the Creepling was trying to keep himself calm.

“Why, isn’t is obvious, Gavvy-wavvy?” The twisting smile returned, hurting Michael’s face to keep it up, and Gavin flinched as if it hurt him. “The Mad King sent me.”

He stretched his head up, letting Gavin see the obsidian collar resting around Michael’s neck, and he looked back down when a high gasp came from beneath him. Gavin’s eyes were even wider, his mouth open in shock as a keening hiss escaped from his throat.

“No, Micoo.” Gavin thrashed, pulling at Michael’s hand that started to press against his throat, tears welling up in the Creepling’s eyes and threatening to escape. “Please, Micoo.”

Michael didn’t reply, he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to scream to stop himself, to beg for Gavin’s life to be spared, but no one heard the wounded cries in his head. He felt some control slip, as tears built up in the warrior’s eyes, flowing freely and dripping slowly over Gavin’s cheeks, much to both boys’ surprise.

While one hand still slowly choked Gavin, preventing him from taking more than a few gasps of air, the other hand drew his crude stone sword. It was pretty sharp, but wouldn’t last for long. Once he raised it above his head, he watched as Gavin’s eyes went from his face to the sword in horror. Michael released Gavin’s neck, listening to the gasps and gulps of air, a hand going up to his neck to rub the bright red mark revealing itself to the world. And still all Michael could do with his own body was to let tears slip, his eyes full of sorrow and desperate to let Gavin know he didn’t want to do this.

Michael sat up, taking up the sword in both hands, raising it high over his head, before his tears blurred his vision as he drove it down with all his strength.

Cries filled the early dawn, but whether they were from Michael’s mouth or Gavin’s was uncertain to the warrior. At the same time, as if knowing there was no way to heal a wound as deadly as what Michael made to Gavin’s chest, Michael felt his body move to his will.

With a strangled cry that sounded unintelligible even to his ears, he removed the sword as carefully as possible, trying to speak but sounding nonsense as he saw the damage he had been forced to do.

Gavin’s chest was a mess of red and the wound was gaping, and worse of all, Gavin was still struggling for breath. Blood bubbled from his lips, and said lips were moving without sounds being made, but Michael wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, his mind screaming to _fix him, fix him, fucking SAVE HIM_.

“Gav, oh fuck, no, Gav no, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.” He cried, hands pawing around the wound, but he knew, and the look in Gavin’s eyes showed that the Creepling knew as well. There was no fixing him, there was no saving.

Gavin was going to die and Michael was the one to kill him.

“No, please, Gavin, I didn’t want to.” Michael couldn’t see, angry, desperate, sorrowful tears streaked his cheeks, dripping onto Gavin’s face. “I didn’t want to, Gavin. Gavin please you can’t.”

_You can’t die._ The words stuck in his throat, and his hands blindly grabbed at the sides of the Creepling’s face, cupping the cheeks almost desperately. He leant forward, practically laying completely on top of him as he pressed his forehead against his best friend’s forehead and made sounds similar to a wounded wolf’s whines.

“-coo…” A child-like whisper made Michael open his eyes to stare in confusion as Gavin whispered, blood spilling sluggishly from a corner of his lips. “I lo… Micoo…”

“Wh-what?” Michael stuttered, wiping his eyes with a palm, not moving anything else.

“I love… Love you…” Words seemed hard for the Creepling, and he huffed silently before grimacing. “Love Micoo.”

Michael stared at the Creepling, his best friend since he had fled to the kingdom when they had been young, the one he loved to spend time with out of their friends, the one he would often have to sleep with to protect the other from his night terrors, the one he had thought, if he waited for the right moment, could have asked to court with.

Tears came flowing again and Michael’s face twisted as despair and anger fought inside him. He had waited too long, and now, the first time he would ever hear those words from those lips would be the last time.

“Micoo… Always loved… You.” Gavin whispered, blood bubbling up even more.

“I, I loved you too. I love you, Gavin. I’m sorry, please don’t go. Don’t, please, this isn’t fair. I love you, please don’t go.” Michael babbled, pressing their foreheads together tightly, not caring it hurt because nothing could hurt as much as his heart breaking for having to be the one to kill Gavin.

Gavin slowly, painfully, raised a hand to cup Michael’s cheek, startling the warrior, and he felt the Creepling wipe the tears slowly from under his eye, and his lips moved too quick for Michael to hear everything. “…wouldn’t live… don’t blame your… Micoo.” He coughed, blood landing on Michael’s face but he couldn’t really feel it.

With a weak voice, Gavin repeated his words, as if it was a mantra. “Love Micoo… I love Micoo…” His eyes fluttered, his hand dropping from Michael’s cheek, and Michael became frantic, sure he was going to die as his heart wouldn’t stop breaking, shattering like stained glass.

“No, please.” He searched Gavin’s face closely before suddenly thinking of an outlandish idea, a story, a fairy tale, but he would have done anything to reverse what he had done.

He tilted his head, and with tears dripping onto Gavin’s face, he carefully pressed his lips over the Creepling’s, trying to ignore the taste of copper and gunpowder, the taste of a half-Creeper’s blood, as he prayed to the deities to not do this.

But he had been too late. Gavin had given his last breath when Michael had spoken, his heart having stopped several seconds before that. But Michael still tried.

When he backed off to see the Creepling’s face, he knew he had been too late. Blood dribbled down one side of his mouth and his eyes were half-lidded but unseeing and beneath Michael’s palms he could feel the body already beginning to cool.

Michael broke down, completely and fully. He embraced the corpse of Gavin tightly, hoping he was wrong, hoping that heartbeat would start up again, that the gods wouldn’t do this to him, hoping that this was just a vivid night terror.

He opened his eyes after several minutes, gazing down at the corpse before a howl filled the air.

Chapter done!

_Without you, I feel broke._  
_Like I'm half of a whole._  
_Without you, I've got no hand to hold._  
_Without you, I feel torn._  
_Like a sail in a storm._  
_Without you, I'm just a sad song._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost cried writing this chapter.  
> Sorta Sorry.*hides in hiding hole*  
> Also, this chapter actually has two song lyric parts, the other being this, from Left Behind:  
> "Take your turn to run and flee  
> But deaths your destiny  
> Stop holding back for me"


	8. On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked around with a frown. “Where… Where are we?”  
> “Following Michael.” Ray’s face was strange but he looked away before Gavin could register it. “I would have checked on the others, but I’m… I’m worried.”

Jeremy woke to such a horrible sound he almost fell off the platform he had made, his body strung up like a taut bowstring. He wasn’t sure what it had been, but the sound was truly desperate and broken, and even worse, it had been somewhere close to his island he hid on. It pulled at his heartstrings and he cowered on the platform as if hiding from the pained howl.

The sound trailed off until the quiet took over once again and Jeremy wasn’t sure which he would have preferred to hear more. At least the howl proved there were other people living and surviving around him, although he wondered if the man that had made such a horrible noise really counted as living, but the quiet meant no one was hurting but left him so isolated.

Knowing he wasn’t going to find any way to fall back into the blissful, peaceful sleep after that wake up call, the young warrior sat down in the middle of his platform, looking around with worried eyes. The sky was just becoming ablaze with pinks and oranges, a truly breathtaking painting forming itself in front of him that was absolutely wrong to see after what he had just woken up to. That howl deserved the sky to be gray, storming, equal if not worse than the pain behind that despairing sound.

With it being on his mind, he found himself wondering, fearful thoughts really, which could have made such a noise, and why. It had been far enough from where Jeremy sat that he could not identify much besides the emotions that he could bet could be heard throughout the kingdom.

Shaking his head, he forced his thoughts to shut up as a spiral of worry gnawed at his stomach, filling it with lead as wild imaginings surrounded his head. He shook his head harder, a noise softly escaping him that was more instinct than human and he huddled his head under his arms. He could only believe that the others were okay, and would be okay until sundown on the fifth day.

Gavin

Gavin opened his eyes to a strange room that felt both tiny and so expansive he couldn’t see the walls. Sitting up slowly, the Creepling unconsciously rubbed his chest with one hand while the other moved to touch his own cheek, confused.

“Gavin.” A soft, familiar female voice called from behind him and he felt his breath caught as he twisted viciously around, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Familiar bright red hair flowed down her back, her simple maid’s dress an indistinct colour, and her face soft, looking exactly like he had seen her over a decade ago, if not more at peace with everything.

“Lindsay?” Gavin breathed, and the softest smile appeared on the maid’s face as she nodded. “I’m… I’m dead, aren’t I?”

The smile remained as she nodded. “You look so grown up, though. I’m certain some here have been waiting forever to see you again.” She turned her head and Gavin saw more figures appear, as if out of nowhere.

The next couple people he saw brought tears to his eyes, and he chirped, unable to form words but it didn’t matter. They knew what he meant and chirped back, his mother rushing to his side in an embrace so tight and warm and safe Gavin forgot the human language, clicking and hissing.

“You look so much older.” His mother hissed in her Creeper language, her hood pushed back to reveal her pale skin and even paler hair, as soft as feathers falling over her shoulder and tickled Gavin’s cheek. “You grew up so handsomely, my Light.”

“Mum.” Gavin could barely get the word out, his heart in his throat as the petname she hadn’t used for him in so long brought back so many memories.

He looked past her shoulder to his father, a beaming smile that radiated pride, and there, holding his hand, was his sister, a curious expression clear on her face. Behind them he saw the unmistakable glint of gold and emerald and his breath stuck.

Geoff smiled sadly, watching the reunion from a distance.

“Geoff!” Gavin called, reaching a hand disbelieving. “No, you…”

Geoff approached, his sadness not fading away. “I was never meant to survive. I just hoped I wouldn’t see any of you for a long time.” He said, now standing beside Lindsay. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this.”

Gavin opened his mouth to answer when a curious click came from his mother as she pulled away. “You’re being called, my Light.”

“Called?” Gavin screwed his face as he was about to ask another question when everything went sideways, knocking him away from his mother.

“If you see Ray, tell him I’m sorry as well.” Geoff called, as if from a tunnel, but Gavin could see him so close before another knock and Gavin had to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, he again heard a voice that he hadn’t heard in years, a voice that he had last heard fighting the Mad King.

“Gavin? Is that you?” The voice was off to the side, and when he turned his head, his breath hitched.

For there, kneeling over nothing, was Ray, although he was slightly transparent, like stained glass.

“Ray.” Gavin almost forgot to move, his limbs stumbling over themselves as scrambled up and wrap his arms around the other, startled when his own limbs were similar to Ray, a strange transparency letting him see through to the cedar forest they were around.

He looked around with a frown. “Where… Where are we?”

“Following Michael.” Ray’s face was strange but he looked away before Gavin could register it. “I would have checked on the others, but I’m… I’m worried.”

Gavin was confused before his last few minutes alive punched him and he gasped, covering his mouth with both hands as he wasn’t sure if he was going to gag or what. Ray looked sympathetic, looking ahead and it was then that the two ghosts saw a shambling, head bowed figure wandering slowly through the trees, looking thinner than he should be as he seemed to shrink into himself, his arms wrapped around his waist as if cold.

Gavin could feel his heart break at the sight and he called out to his boy, but was ignored. He was about to try again when a hand went to his shoulder, and he saw Ray shake his head. “We are just witnesses, silent and unseen.”

The Creepling wanted to argue, but he saw the age hidden behind the youthful face of his old friend.

“So what do we do? Just watch?” He asked, a pained look appearing on his face when Ray nodded.

“It’s the only thing we can do, Gav. If we could do anything, don’t you think I would have done something to show you guys I was with you?” He inquired and Gavin dropped his head a bit, looking back to Michael. He looked horrible.

“He didn’t want to. Ryan had put a spell on him.” Ray sounded sympathetic.

“I know.” His words were soft, eyes glued to his boy before he remembered something. “Geoff… Geoff! He’s-”

Ray didn’t need to interrupt, his face said he knew. It was twisted into a grimace. “He didn’t go without a fight, at least.” He said, deadpan and Gavin couldn’t get a read on the emotions Ray was trying to hide.

“He also told me to tell you he was sorry.” Gavin gave the message and Ray nodded, his gaze distant.

“He couldn’t have known with us the first time.” The teen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We can’t do anything anyway.”

Gavin frowned at the younger’s words, looking back at Michael who had stopped against a tree, shaking terribly and never had he wanted to give the warrior comfort as badly as he did right then and there.

“Are you sure we can’t?” Ray shook his head sadly.

“The closest was with you a few hours before you died.” He said slowly after a few seconds, watching their living friend shaking against a large cedar tree. “I somehow managed to get you to hear me beg you to move.” Gavin opened his mouth to ask a question but Ray continued on, “No, I don’t know how I was able to do it. It just happened.”

“So what can we do?” Gavin asked.

“Not much.” Ray shrugged, looking away from the warrior to focus his gaze on the Creepling. “We float everywhere, don’t have a corporeal body to take care of, can be about fifty feet from the person we haunt before we’ll feel really weird. Don’t ask, I still don’t understand.” He shook his head. “And we can mostly freely watch over the living we are somehow bonded to. It’s really disorienting the first time, because you just blink and suddenly you’re with someone else. That’s all I’ve been able to do. Limbs pass right through the living and anything real and solid, words go unheard even if you shout and scream at them.”

A pained look flashed over Ray’s face before it melted away, his eyes flitting from the floor to Gavin back to the floor, and while it piqued the Creepling’s interest, he didn’t ask.

Instead, he looked back over to Michael, who seemed to have fallen into a fitful doze, his face puffy and pink and shiny as the dawning sun made the tear tracks sparkle. He quickly went over to the sleeping warrior and went to cup his cheek, a bizarre feeling as his fingers went right through Michael and he snatched his hand back with wide eyes.

“I told you.” Ray said from behind him and Gavin turned to look at him with sorrow. “Ghosts fucking suck, man.”

Gavin couldn’t help but nod in agreement, standing up and away from Michael. “Can we see the others?”

“Yeah, just, uh, you just think of them and blink. Think of watching where they could be and that should work. Who do you want to see?” Ray asked.

“Lil J. I haven’t seen him in a while and I wanna make sure he’s okay.” The Creepling said and Ray nodded quickly.

“Just think about him and you should see him when you blink once.” Ray said. “I’ll meet you there.”

Gavin nodded and watched as Ray winked out before trying out just what Ray had told him to do.

He was startled out of it when he heard a whimper from his side and his heart felt like it was snapping at the miserable sound. He looked down at the warrior, still asleep, and wished he could brush the long curly hair out of the man’s face.

“I’ll wait for you, Micoo. Don’t worry about me, boy.” He said in a soft voice before he too, winked out of the cedar forest.

Chapter done!

_So I surrender my soul_  
_I'm reaching out for your hope_  
_I lay my weapons down_  
_I'm ready for you now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh.  
> Just a couple more weeks before this is finished. Let's see who lives, shall we?


	9. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course I tried to see what was wrong with the girl. I’m not completely heartless to let a child die.”

Jeremy gazed out around his platform again, a little bored with the mundane view. He supposed he was lucky to have stayed hidden for so long. He was too high for arrows to hit if the Mad King had a bow, and as long as no one else could use magic, they wouldn’t be able to build up to meet him.

It was nearing sunset when he caught a swift-moving ant-sized dot thunder over the bridge and he sat up. With a quick spell, he focused his eyes on the moving dot until it grew clearer and the young warrior’s face paled.

The Mad King was riding on a large steed, his head swiveling as if trying to see and find something. He was a bright thing, protected in brilliant diamond armour that hurt Jeremy’s eyes with the magnifying spell put over them, and from his angle Jeremy could not see the Mad King’s face. Not that he would want to, anyway.

Suddenly he saw the horse jerk to a stop before suddenly the man looked up, his eyes seemingly finding Jeremy’s. The young warrior gave a gasp before breaking off the spell, falling back to the middle of the platform.

His spine tingled like spiders were crawling up and down it, and he was certain the Mad King knew where he was.

Sure enough, Jeremy jumped when the wind delivered a message, the Mad King’s voice as clear as day despite the distance.

“Colour me impressed, Little One.” Jeremy winced at the nickname the Mad King had decided to call him. He really hated that nickname, as he felt younger than he was, and he could almost imagine the looking-down expression the Mad King had on like he always did when they spoke one on one. “I thought you could not use the magic you possessed. Or, well, that you even knew spells to preform this sort of magic. We could have bonded over this, you know?”

“Fuck off.” Jeremy muttered, allowing the wind to take his words back to the Mad King. After all, the other was the one casting the communications magic. “Like that would have made a difference.”

The Mad King’s voice came back contemplative as he heard a hum. “I suppose not. Maybe I would have sought after you first though. Other mages are surely such a pain to track and play with.” He almost sounded like he was pouting.

Jeremy shook his head, a frown painting his face. “You’re a fucking monster.”

“Oh, a monster? Not like I haven’t heard that before.” The Mad King chuckled. “Yes, I suppose to the simple-minded and slow-witted I could be. But I’m merely creative.”

Jeremy’s mouth was agape as he couldn’t find anything to reply to the man for a very long time. The sun was setting fully by the time Jeremy could find words. “You… Ugh, how could any of us have believed you were kind?”

“Now that hurts, Little Jeremy.” The words held some bite that almost made the young warrior flinch. “Next you’ll have the wild notion I did not even try to save the Princess.”

“Well, did you?” Jeremy demanded. He had been young when the Princess succumbed to her illness, before he had figured out he possessed magic, and he couldn’t remember much about that point when he had met the Mad King, previously only called by his name.

“Of course I tried to see what was wrong with the girl. I’m not completely heartless to let a child die.”

“Oh, but my brother, who was just a few years older than her, was completely fine to murder? My best friend was barely an adult when you killed him in cold blood.” Jeremy felt anger boil in his veins. “Those other people who weren’t even of age to be knighted or allowed to participate in fights outside of training?”

There was no reply for the longest time, but finally Jeremy heard the wind breeze past with the Mad King’s message. “I’m tired of talking in circles. I can see you are even more stubborn that Mogar. And a mage on top of that. I had hoped to maybe keep you, but mages are hard to control.”

Jeremy’s blood went cold and he hurried to the edge to see the Mad King with an impressive bow drawn fully.

Even from the distance, and with the communications spell lifted, Jeremy heard the _thwip_ of the bowstring, and he ducked back from the edge.

The Mad King sent arrow after arrow, some landing a few blocks down from the platform, but none managed to hit higher than the bottom of his small platform. Jeremy looked around quickly, his eyes passing over the beacon he had been next to for the past couple days before he noticed how close he was to the water, a small river he guessed and he suddenly got an idea.

Keeping himself out of the Mad King’s field of vision, he reached the edge of the opposite side of the platform, sitting against the edge. Whispering a quick “titim cleite” Jeremy pushed himself off his platform he had made as a makeshift camp for the past two days, feeling the wind whip past as he plummeted, quiet as he could be to not alert the man with the bow to his location.

Luckily his spell kicked in as neared the water, as he felted himself slow enough to silently slip into the water. He resurfaced quickly, still as quiet as he could be as freezing cold river water almost froze his joints and made it very hard to breathe.

But he had to keep quiet, taking silent gasps as he slowly, quietly swam to the shore, which was more of a side of a mountain, and carefully climbed out, whispering a fire spell to dry himself off almost instantly and warm him up after the cold dip in the river.

Listening carefully, Jeremy released an air of breath as he continued to hear the _thwip thwip_ of the bow releasing arrows at his now-empty platform before making his way far away from there.

* * *

 

The fourth day and the dawn of the fifth day went by much the same. Once Jeremy deemed it safe enough, he gathered his magic and built another tower, this time by a yellow beacon with the edge of the area they were trapped in behind him.

And, as before, Jeremy had to leave his platform when the Mad King found it at sunset on the fourth day, although the second time he had made sure to fall before the other got close.

During the night of the fourth night, the young warrior went hunting as he hid, keeping his senses heightened with the use of magic for prey or for the Mad King.

So here he was, on the dawn of the final day, and his spirits lifted tremendously at the thought that he only had to survive until nightfall. He could do this. The Mad King would have to scour all the islands for him. Jeremy had made his, hopefully final, pillar of earth right next to another beacon, a red beacon on the complete opposite side of where the blue and yellow beacons had been.

Now he could only pray he could live for the next twelve hours without getting caught.

Ray

Since Gavin had joined him to haunt the others, the two would normally spend time watching between Michael and Jeremy. Gavin had been surprised to see Jeremy with his magical pillar and Ray wondered if Jeremy had told anyone outside of their family about the fact he had magic.

At his question when he had asked the Half-Creeper, Gavin had replied with a shrug.

“I honestly don’t remember. He never mentioned it when I was aware, but there always could have been a chance he mentioned it or something when I was trapped in my mind.” He replied, looking at the small platform curiously.

Ray bit his lip. “Wish we could ask him, but…” He sighed sadly.

The two had watched Jeremy have his exchange with Ryan, before following after Michael, who seemed as lost as a lamb. He seemed to have stopped crying, and no longer held himself, but he still didn’t walk as he once did, that lighthearted gait that presented the pride and confidence Ray knew Michael exude in surplus.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Gavin had asked when they watched Michael trip over his feet.

Ray shook his head. Of course Michael wouldn’t be okay after this. Not only after suffering the usual trauma of being hunted, by someone they all thought was a friend no less, but being controlled to kill another, especially when that someone was someone they loved with their entire being, there was no way Michael would be okay. “There’s no way.”

Gavin made a foreign noise that seemed to emit his worry and Ray sighed, agreeing with the sentiment.

So the two went back and forth between Michael and Jeremy. They watched as Jeremy jumped from the second pillar, watched as Michael hunted, watched as Jeremy looked keyed up in an unknown forest full of dark, large trees, watched as Michael pulled uselessly at the collar.

When Ray saw the collar, he turned to Gavin. “Gav, what is that?” He asked, pointing at the thing.

Gavin’s eyes flit from the collar to Ray to the floor they hovered over, biting his lip. “An obsidian collar. He had made it specifically for hunting everyone in these games. It ties the wearer to the caster.” He kept his eyes on the forest floor. “I knew as soon as I saw it on Michael’s neck that that was it for me. It’s horrible.”

Ray nodded, looking back at the living with a sad look.

He was knocked out of his thoughts by Gavin a couple seconds later. “Hey, I haven’t seen Jack since the preparation day. Where is he?”

Chapter done!

_Maybe you'll change_  
_Abandon all your wicked ways_  
_Make amends and start anew again_  
_Maybe you'll see_  
_All the wrongs you did to me_  
_And start all over, start all over again_


	10. Counting Bodies Like Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any last words, Little One?”  
> “Please…”

Michael hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t.

Since the possession of his body, Michael hadn’t heard or seen the Mad King, which he guessed he was grateful for. He was allowed to grieve without being interrupted.

So he took his time, the pain of knowing now both his best friends were dead, of knowing he had taken the life of one of them against his own will, that pain took a long time to leave.

Michael had left the corpse in the sand, although he re-covered the Creepling’s head from the sun, feeling it would be a horrible thing to reveal his face to the world without his say-so.

After, he had wandered, lost in his head and letting himself grieve. He didn’t have to worry about getting caught or dying, had nothing to distract his mind besides on the fourth day to find food for one last day.

So, on the dawn of the fifth day, he really hadn’t meant to walk by Jeremy’s current pillar, hadn't even known Jeremy was there until he heard a call from above.

“Michael!”

The warrior jumped a good foot in the air, twisting his head around to find the voice before he heard it again from right above him, although distant.

“Michael! You’re okay!”

Looking up, he did a double take at the large, tall pillar of earth that seemed impossible to be real touching the clouds up above, and a dot of a figure at the very top.

Suddenly the dot jumped off and Michael’s mind went into overdrive as his heart leapt into his throat.

“Wait!” He shouted before the impossible happened.

The figure, his familiar tunic flapping around him, although ruffled and much dirtier than it had been when he last saw him, had somehow managed to slow himself down as he made his descent, like a feather gracefully falling back to earth. He landed with a small ‘hooof,’ stumbling before catching himself and hurried over to Michael.

“Michael, I thought I would never see you!” Jeremy said in an excited tone, grabbing Michael by the biceps, checking him over before looking behind him. “Hey, where’s Gav? And what’s that on your neck? I have so many questions.”

At the name Michael’s face splintered and the lighthearted words Jeremy was saying trailed off, his face sharpening in shock and he shook his head wildly.

“Michael, what happened? Where’s Gav, is he okay?” Michael shook his head, unable to speak, but Jeremy spoke for him. “What? No… Michael, you’re lying.”

Michael looked Jeremy fully in the face, and he could tell when Jeremy understood, seeing the haunted, pained look in the elder’s eyes. Jeremy’s mouth opened, but no words, no sounds came out, his eyes wide as he shook his head, as if trying to disprove Michael’s unsaid truth.

“No, no, he couldn’t have. We would have…” His eyes widened further before they snapped up to stare at Michael. “Was that what I had heard, those couple days ago? Was that Gavin?” He spoke softly, afraid.

Michael couldn’t answer, his throat had closed up, but Jeremy seemed to understand. His hands tightened around Michael’s arms before hugging him completely, drawing the elder warrior towards him.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.” He heard Jeremy mutter softly, kindly, and Michael hadn’t realized he had started to cry until Jeremy’s tunic felt damp on his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, I gotcha. I’m sorry.”

The two stayed like that, the younger comforting the elder as he broke down again. Hearing the words just seemed like it made everything all the more real to Michael, that, yes, he really _had_ watched Gavin die, that he _had_ killed him, that Gavin was never coming back.

Finally, as the sun was high over their heads, slightly blocked by the foliage besides the spot where Jeremy had descended from, Michael felt like he had finally run out of tears to grieve.

Michael stepped away, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms, muttering apologies to the younger man as he sniffled.

“It’s fine, it’s good to grieve, Michael. I am truly sorry. How did… How did you find out?” Jeremy asked hesitantly.

Michael opened and closed his mouth several times to answer, before simply shaking his head. “Please don’t make me say?” The words ended somewhat in a question but Jeremy accepted it, nodding with sympathetic eyes.

“Course, of course.”

It was then that Michael noticed a blurring movement that had his heart in his throat, and he grabbed at Jeremy without even thinking about it, pulling him with him as Michael stumbled away.

The two heard the _shwing_ of a sword swinging with great strength and precision where Jeremy had been not a second ago and Jeremy scrambled back, turning to face the Mad King.

Ryan looked mildly annoyed when his gaze passed over Michael and before either could make a move, Ryan spoke.

“Was I too kind to let you free, Mogar?” Michael flinched. “Was I too lenient as to think you had learned your lesson?”

His eyes went wide and his breath caught. “Please no.”

But the Mad King didn’t listen. “Puipéad.” He said as Michael cried out before his body sagged, his mouth snapping shut hard enough to make his head feel rattled.

“Michael!” Jeremy called, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it, but Michael couldn’t do a thing. “What have you done to him? What spell was that?”

“Just a quick spell that’ll make sure he doesn’t interrupt me. He will simply watch, like a ghost I suppose.” The Mad King smiled and Michael found himself standing up straight, and walked jerkily to a tree close to the King. “I would have him perform a repeat, but that wouldn’t be too fun for me.”

“A what? What the fuck are you doing?” Jeremy demanded, pulling out his stone sword from his belt and Michael could do nothing but watch.

“Well, he was the one to kill Gavin, on my orders of course, for disobeying me. While it would be fun to see him go against another fighter, I’d like to see just how strong you are. Though I highly doubt you’ll be nearly a challenge like the Old King.”

At that both Jeremy and Michael looked at the King with wide eyes. _Geoff? No…_

“Yo-you’re lying. Geoff can’t be…”

“I most certainly am not lying, Little Jeremy. He put up a wonderful challenge for me to beat, but beat him I did.” Ryan tilted his head as he unsheathed his own sword, the bluish-white colour even more impressive in the noon lighting. “Let’s see how you do.”

Michael could tell Jeremy was not ready. The first strike barely missed but sliced along the outside of his non-sword-wielding arm before the two began to dance with their swords. The two slashed and hacked, thrust and struck, obviously aiming for vital areas, although Jeremy had a difficult time with battling the tough armour, but he held his own, mostly getting slight grazes that looked more like long paper cuts.

But still, Michael wanted to help, to stop Ryan, but his body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t listen to him. His body was a puppet bent to the Mad King’s will and no one else’s much less his own will, while under this spell and all he could think of was of Gavin, of the last few moments he had been alive, the gaping wound spilling blood like a river, the pale skin of Gavin’s kind painted with his own blood, dribbling down his cheek into his hair.

He was so caught up in his own head, reliving the past, he didn’t notice that the fight had ended all too soon. When he returned to the present, he honestly wished he hadn’t, that he had been far, far away from this very place.

For Jeremy knelt in front of Ryan, one arm hanging uselessly by his side, his other a bloody mess with the stone sword a shattered mess beside him. And standing above him, his own diamond sword pressed against the side of the young warrior’s neck, was Ryan.

“You know, as well as I do, the best way to kill other mages, don’t you?” The Mad King asked, only to be answered with silence. “Any last words, Little One?”

“Please…” Jeremy looked up, his eyes glancing towards where Michael stood. “Stop murdering. Stop the mindless killings in your idea of fun. Please, be the man Ray thought you to be.”

Michael couldn’t see Ryan’s reaction, as he stayed quiet for several long moments. “Oh, such wasteful words.” He simply said after a time, and Michael watched, unable to shut his eyes, as the diamond sword swung up and cleaved across. The spell was lifted as soon as the sword edge sliced through the neck, the bones connecting the skull to the spine severing like a piece of string being cut by scissors and the elder warrior cried out.

“No!” He cried, the memory already burning into his mind of the sword cleanly decapitating the younger man. Jeremy had his eyes closed tightly, a sorrowful look on his face, mixed in with pain but it had happened too quick for him to fully register what happened.

Michael fell to his knees just as the headless body slipped to the side, the head of his friend rolling a bit farther away.

The Mad King simply looked down at the corpse before turning, without a hint of remorse in his expression, to face Michael. “I suppose, if we do not find the last one, then you two may live. But, let’s just see if he’ll survive the last few hours of sunlight.”

Jack

Jack felt cramped. Had been feeling that way since the second night when he had made his hiding place.

Although he wasn’t a mage, earth-based magic seemed to do well with him as he could easily fall three large trees and use the lumber for incredible works when he had been a carpenter.

So when he had found himself in a large forest, with thick trees surrounding him on all sides, Jack had a rough idea that he prayed would work.

He simply made himself a place to stand, and had the bark of one of the trees cover him entirely, the leafy foliage sprouting just above his head, and he stayed there since. He had made sure to ration his food to last the five days, and the water as well.

And so he stayed, hidden by the tree, and occasionally he heard footsteps pass, and he would wonder if they had been Ryan or one of the lads, or maybe it had been Geoff.

Jack stayed in the tree until he saw, above the foliage, the sky darken on the fifth day, signaling the end of the tenth Most Dangerous Game, and he simply pulled the tree away from him, looking around worriedly.

It had felt too easy. He hadn’t heard much besides feet walking right by, not noticing him at all, and it gave him an uneasy feeling, but at the same time he was relieved. He had survived, and so headed to where they had been dropped off to see who else had survived.

Chapter done!

_I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons_  
_I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason_  
_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son_  
_They're one in the same, I must isolate you_  
_Isolate and save you from yourself_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter is next! I'm actually going to post the final chapter this Friday, so look forward to that!  
> I will admit I felt bad about killing Jeremy, but I had asked a few friends, out of three choices, who would they not want to die, and both picked Jack so.  
> Alternate lyrics would go with the song Pain:  
> "Pain without love  
> Pain, I can't get enough  
> Pain, I like it rough  
> 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all"


	11. Epilogue-Get Out Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jeremy?” Gavin asked, kneeling besides the other.  
> “Wha-uh? Gav?” Jeremy’s eyes snapped to Gavin’s face, surprised, before they looked around and landed on Ray. “Oh my gods.”

Ray couldn’t watch his baby brother’s last moments, had to turn away. He heard the cry Michael made, saw Gavin flinch away, heard the sickening sounds he had hoped he would never have had to hear, ever, of his brother losing his head by Ryan's hand.

He felt the same as when Geoff had passed, when Gavin had passed, and wondered if he too would join them in haunting or wait like Geoff.

He soon got his answer when after a single blink of the eyes, another ghost appeared, on his back hovering like Gavin and Ray. The other had appeared long after his death, following Michael as the living was made to follow the King.

Jeremy opened his eyes slowly, owlishly, as he looked around. “Wha?”

“Jeremy?” Gavin asked, kneeling besides the other.

“Wha-uh? Gav?” Jeremy’s eyes snapped to Gavin’s face, surprised, before they looked around and landed on Ray. “Oh my gods.”

Ray bit his lip as he struggled to smile at his baby brother (although he wasn’t sure if he should continue to call him baby if he looked older than him now), and waved a hand. “Hey, little J.”

Jeremy sat up quickly. “What’s going on? Geoff told me…”

“That you were called?” Gavin guessed, and when Jeremy nodded, Ray took over: “Being called basically means we’re forced to haunt some of the living until they all go to that room.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, but Ray shook his head.

“You’ll understand soon. Are you… Are you okay?” He asked.

Jeremy looked thoughtful before he nodded. “I guess? I mean, I know I should be sad that I was so close to surviving, but…” He shrugged, looking unsure. “I don’t know; I don’t feel not okay.”

Ray nodded slowly, understanding what he meant.

Michael

The warrior walked like a puppet, even though he had complete control over his body, as he and the Mad King reached the place not even a week ago where his friends had been alive had started.

It had just reached nightfall when they reached the shore, and Michael could hear the King mutter various spells under his breath and he only idly wondered what he was casting, before his mind fluttered back off in a haze of white noise. He didn’t want to think, thinking meant remembering, meant reliving, meant acknowledging everything that had happened.

So he shut his mind up, not thinking, not feeling, and best of all, not remembering. But even he knew this would only be a temporary solution, he’d have to remember sooner or later, but right now, he’d rather wait until later.

The two stayed by the shore, quiet besides the Mad King’s soft humming, and Michael realized it was some bright, dance-worthy melody he hummed happily under his breath.

Before long, the two heard twigs snapping and Michael looked up immediately, tears already filling his eyes as he caught sight of the older man, his ginger beard wildly untamed already.

“Jack! You did it!” He cried, jumping up to run to the older man, embracing him tightly.

The elder gave a soft ‘oof’ in surprise by the embrace, but quickly drew his arms around the other. “Michael. You’re okay. That’s good.”

“So, you did survive?” The two turned slightly at the Mad King’s words, and Michael unconsciously drew himself nearer to Jack, pressing his face into the elder’s chest. “I am quite impressed; I didn’t see you the entire game.”

“I guess I’m just better at hiding than you are at finding.” Jack said in a subdued tone, a bit distant that Michael had never heard come from the man.

“I suppose.” The King shrugged before extending his hands. “Well, I suppose I should congratulate you two for surviving my fun little game. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.” White teeth sparkled in the moonlight that made Michael shiver.

*three years later*

Michael woke up screaming, clawing at the air in front of him, kicking the covers off him and the bed.

He soon felt warm, familiar hands enfold him, hands that symbolized kindness despite years and years of woodworking between the years of being an Advisor to both the late and the present King.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Just a night terror, Mike. Just a night terror, shh, shh.” Jack whispered into his hair as the older man rocked Michael.

It had been a routine for the two of them. Although they switched roles on occasion, it was normally Michael who would have horrible, terrible night terrors that made him awake screaming, thrashing around, crying out for his lost love, for his friends, sometimes just crying out gibberish as his mind was too warped to create coherent words, and Jack would normally be with him in seconds, having moved into the same room as the younger for just such a purpose, cradling Michael and whispering words of comfort.

At times it reminded Michael of him comforting Gavin after the first game and at those times, he always felt closer to the Creepling in that way, despite the ripping hole in his heart whenever he actually remembered Gavin, remembering he was dead and gone and he would never see him again.

Catching his breath in hiccups, Michael found himself relaxing at the kind words Jack spoke, and he nuzzled into the older man, seeking his warmth. Jack continued to whisper kind words, easing the younger back into a calm state that only Jack could bring him to nowadays.

It was still the middle of the night when Michael became aware of reality again, the moonlight spilling into the two’s shared room. Michael could no longer live alone, and he hardly trusted anyone else in the castle besides Jack. Jack, who had survived with him. Jack, who had lost the same important people Michael had lost. Jack, who knew if he didn’t stay with Michael would lose him as well from grief that just wouldn’t go away.

There would be days, and nights, where neither felt grief-stricken, or would need to be woken up from their night terrors that plagued their minds, and it felt like the old days, before the games, before the Princess died.

But then those horrible night terrors would return and they were reminded of those they lost.

Jack had taken a long time to break down when he had heard about Geoff’s death, not accepting it at first when the Mad King had told him, before it truly hit him as they reached the main port of Éacht again.

Michael could never get Gavin or Jeremy’s last moments out of his head on a good day, unless he took up drinking, something both he and Jack tried their bests not to let become habits. For the past three years it had been going decent, the drinking never lasting more than a week at most, but even then it was strained when they were sober, forced to acknowledge reality and the truths.

The Mad King continued his games, merrily murdering, but luckily never called upon Michael or Jack again. He had mentioned in passing he would at least honour the last words of the previous King, and it might have been the kindest thing the Mad King ever did during his rule.

As Michael felt sleep creeping back on to him, with Jack already passed out encircling him like a human shield, the young man stared at the moonlight and wondered.

He wondered about what death was like. He wondered what the afterlife was like. He wondered what Gavin and the others were doing in the afterlife, if there even was one.

And then the question he always thought about; he wondered what would happen if he died, if he took his life. Because he was tired of living, was tired of the night terrors, was tired of everything.

But he couldn’t leave Jack. Jack kept him alive, kept him going, despite the pain in his heart and soul that felt heavier than the world. And he would keep living until Jack stopped.

Story done!

_Who am I kidding?_  
_Now, let's not get overzealous here_  
_You've always been a huge piece of shit_  
_If I could kill you I would_  
_But it's frowned upon in all fifty states_  
_Having said that, burn in hell_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the end of His Mad Game.  
> Man, the last few chapters were tough, but I hoped you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> The lyrics for this final ending is Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. Alternate lyrics, that go with the chapter title, would be:  
> "Don't put your life in someone's hands  
> They're bound to steal it away  
> Don't hide your mistakes  
> 'Cause they'll find you, burn you  
> Then he said  
> If you want to get out alive  
> Run for your life"  
> Tell me what you liked, what you disliked, if I could have improved on anything! Hell, ask anything if you have questions.  
> I plan on writing maybe some one-shots in this universe, so if you guys want to see something that I didn't write in the fic, just say so, I'm always open for prompts!


End file.
